


A Closet Full of Fantasies

by Shadadukal



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-15
Updated: 2011-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadadukal/pseuds/Shadadukal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While working on a cure for the Lazarus virus, Nikola settles at the Sanctuary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Closet Full of Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grav_ity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grav_ity/gifts).



> This one is based on the following two prompts from the history battle at sfa_history : 1) Helen Magnus. Closets full of men fashion from 20th century, bought for Nikola and/or John, but everyone thinks the clothes are Helen's disguises. 2) Nikola Tesla. Waistcoat collection. They were my prompts and I used them as an excuse to write more waistcoat fic for grav_ity .

With the help of Helen’s young associate, Nikola had changed the codes and made alterations to the network of security measures. In the face of young Ashley’s desertion, they had made as many adjustments as they possibly could in a short time, to ensure immediate safety. He had found Henry’s constant simmering agitation to be irritating but the young pup showed promise, not being as stupid as the immense majority of people.

That done, he had moved back to working on the little Source Blood they had extracted before Ashley stole the vial, while Helen was off with Johnny, seeking information about her daughter’s whereabouts.

He worked on a vaccine formula for a long time before he just had to stop. His bloodlust was strong, getting almost to the point where he couldn't control himself anymore. Putting aside what he was doing, he looked into Helen's cupboards of medicine. No ready batch of anti-bloodlust medication, but all the necessary ingredients.

When he finally injected the medication in his veins, he sighed with relief. He really had let it go almost too far. While the thirst for blood was now ebbing, he still felt frazzled, agitated. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his work again right away. But he was still covered in dust from Bhalasaam, still clad in the same clothes he'd been wearing for several days now. He could use a shower and a shave, and a few hours of sleep.

Helen as good as lived in a castle, but he was pretty sure he couldn't go collapse in just any room. He went to look for Helen's tech assistant and found him in his lab, going over the security procedures again. The other man started as he walked in.

"Do you need something?"

"Yes. First, where is the wine cellar in this house? Second, what room can I take as private quarters?"

"You're not in a hotel, dude."

Nikola just raised his eyebrow at him and waited. Helen's techie scrambled to his feet after a brief moment.

"Okay, follow me."

He was pointed in the direction of the wine cellar, which he collected three excellent bottles from. Helen's employee looked on disapprovingly. Nikola gave him a challenging eyebrow, daring him to say anything. Four floors up, Nikola was directed to a room.

"The Doc keeps some disguises in the rooms off this hall, but she put Druitt in the next one, and she said something about hoping you and Druitt would manage not to kill each other, 'cause you were going to be next to each other. So I think she meant this one for you," the young man said before making a hasty retreat.

Nikola locked the door behind him. As could be expected when in the Sanctuary, the furniture was luxurious and comfortable. There were two other doors beside the main door. The first one revealed a private bathroom, complete with shower and tub. The second one led into a walk-in closet. And it was indeed full of clothes. Full of men's clothes in greys and blues, blacks and browns, with flashes of white and beige. He stepped further inside.

There were jackets and trousers, shirts and waistcoats, shoes and accessories, and a lot more.

He fingered a black silk shirt, admiring the details of the thin stripes. He took out a pair of dark grey wool trousers and looked at the size. Yes, Helen could wear them, but they wouldn't fit very well with her curves. But they would suit _him_ perfectly. He took another pair of trousers, same size. He took a few of the shirts out. All the same size, all _his size_. Some collarless shirts from the '40s, which he liked very much. Some dark, some light. Some in a solid colour, others with stripes.

He smirked. Those garments weren't disguises at all. With some adjustments, they would certainly fit Helen. But those clothes had been bought with him in mind; he was sure of it.

He moved to look at the waistcoats, a garment he was particularly fond of, all the more so as it was becoming a staple from another time. A single breasted dark grey one, with a detailed pattern sewn on the edges. Another was black, with contrasting light grey buttons. Yet another was made of medium grey flannel. There was a double-breasted waistcoat, made of black silk, with the buttons in groups of four. It was exquisite. He ran his fingers on the material and it rustled under his hand in a soft musical sound. Helen was probably very fond of this one as she had bought waistcoats identical to it in two other colours, one medium grey and the other lavender blue.

There were suits, including some that seemed to have been made-to-measure. In wool, in cotton seersucker, in cashmere, in linen. Dark grey, light grey, navy, but one soft brown as well. Most of the jackets were of a British style, with minimal shoulder padding and two vents, which he preferred as it allowed more freedom of movement. There were a couple of single breasted peaked lapel ones from the 1970s, in a style inspired by those from the 1920s and 1930s.

There were cravats, some black, others patterned. One with gold stripes of various widths caught his eyes.

A section was filled with more casual clothes. A light waterproof jacket. Some V-neck jumpers made of cashmere, so soft and pleasant to the touch.

In a drawer, he even found some sleeve protectors made of a light fireproof black mesh. He was glad of that since he'd be wearing the fine clothing stored in this room while working, and he didn't want to damage any of it.

And there were shoes, several pairs of handmade shoes, all of the highest quality leather, including a derby style pair in his favourite medium brown colour.

Then there were the more esoteric items. Classic Levi 501s. Black Dr. Martens boots. A pair of black leather buckled winklepickers from the 1950s. Skin tight vinyl pants, which he would probably be able to fit in, although he wouldn't be comfortable. Did this mean that Helen wanted to see him in them? If her daughter hadn't just gone rogue, he would have teased her about it, perhaps showing up in her bedroom wearing them and a tight black T-shirt and nothing else.

Finally, Helen had also bought some underwear. Most of them black silk shorts, but a few modern boxer briefs.

In fact, the only thing missing from the closet were pyjamas. There was no nightwear of any kind. He did usually sleep with something on, but clearly Helen didn't want him to in her house. He reacted to the thought involuntarily, the lust part of his earlier bloodlust still simmering, ready to heat up again. He felt guilty, letting himself get aroused by thoughts of Helen, clothes and lack thereof, when her daughter was missing, and under the Cabal's control. A cold shower was in order. He needed to wash the dust from Bhalasaam away anyway.

He quickly showered to clean the dirt away, and then shaved. Smooth-faced once more, he decided to settle in a hot bath to relax and enjoy the wine he had taken in Helen's cellar. He was well into the second bottle by the time his lust surfaced again. He had forgotten about that aspect of pushing the limits of his medication. The thirst for blood disappeared well enough, the human part of him likely helping in suppressing it, but the lust... the lust demanded satisfaction, and there was nothing for it.

He tried not to think of Helen, to think of waistcoats instead, but that only led to imagining Helen wearing one of his waistcoats and nothing else. His breathing grew more ragged and he sped up his movement, Helen slowly undoing one button after the other to reveal her breasts in his mind's eye, as he gave up the fight against his imagination. Picturing himself sliding his cock between her generous breasts, he came with a cry and a violent shudder. He waited a few moments to get his breathing back under control before getting out of the tub. He pulled the plug to drain it, going to take another quick shower.

In the bedroom, he slipped under the covers, completely naked. He would rest for a few hours, secure in the knowledge that he'd be able to put on some fine clothes in the morning.


End file.
